


The French Connection

by goldenraeofsun



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista!Blaine, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenraeofsun/pseuds/goldenraeofsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine was perfectly satisfied as a barista/college student in New York working under Santana Lopez. Well, everything was fine until he developed an almost unhealthily obsessive crush on that cute French exchange student that kept coming by during his shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blaine liked working in Common Grounds. 

His boss was… interesting to say the least. The first time she had met him, she had commented shrewdly, “Damn, where can I find a straight version?” Blaine had bristled at both the offense and accompanied lecherous leer, but Santana had quickly dismissed his concerns with a casual, “Relax, hobbit. Even if you were straight, I probably wouldn’t go for all that junk that’s up in your trunk. My girlfriend’s got better legs that you anyway.” 

He and Santana got along fairly well – Blaine would even hesitate to call them friends – but every once in a while she would smack his ass in passing or trip him to keep him from getting too comfortable around her. 

Common Grounds was a small coffee shop located on his college campus. Working part-time was one of the best things for Blaine. He liked waking up to the smell of coffee in the mornings and greeting customers with a friendly smile. Plus, it was near his dorm, and now that it was February and bitterly cold some mornings, Blaine was thankful for the short walk to work. Then there was Santana and, as sarcastic and abrasive as she could be, she could be surprisingly understanding about his need to put his studies before his job, and often let him switch shifts at a moment’s notice without too much hassle. 

Well, he’d usually get an exasperated, “Whatever makes you happy, Gel Kelly.” But really, that was the best he could have hoped for. 

But so far this morning was going fairly smoothly. Santana hadn’t said a word to Blaine about his height or hairstyle (then again, she hadn’t finished her morning cup of coffee yet, so there was still time) and business was slow because it was early on a Sunday. 

Blaine wiped down at the mostly spotless counter that he had already cleaned the night before, eyeing Santana warily as she inspected her reflection in the back of a spoon. 

“You know, short stuff, you’ve got to get laid,” she said without preamble. 

Well, that almost came out of nowhere. But Blaine knew Santana. So, really, he should have expected something inappropriate, even if it was eight in the morning. 

Blaine’s hand paused in its slow circles. “Who’s to say I haven’t been getting laid this whole time?” he asked, more curious than offended. 

Santana threw him a nearly disgusted look. “Please, I know a case of the ain’t gettin any when I see it. Plus, you’ve picked up every late Friday night shift since the year’s started.” 

He resumed his cleaning, moving on to one of the nearby tables and avoiding Santana’s shrewd gaze. “Well,” Blaine replied once it was clear that she was expecting an answer. “I just haven’t met the right person yet,” he finished after a beat, deciding that, in this case, honesty was the best policy. “I had a couple of one night stands last year and they weren’t for me.” He shrugged, as if to say there you have it. 

“Please,” Santana dismissed, “That’s no excuse. You’re my friend, hobbit, as much as it pains me to associate with someone of your midget stature. And I don’t like to see my friends suffer, especially if I’m not the one causing it. So, and I repeat, you’ve got to get laid.” She set the spoon down and began to walk around the shop, gathering all the napkin dispensers. “Come out with me. I promise I can show you a good time.” 

Blaine sighed. “Believe me, and I say this with the best intentions possible, I’m not interested in any type of ‘good time’ you can offer me.” 

Santana snorted. “Like I go for the gentlemanly types. As you know, I don’t like them gentle or men.” She shook her head and began to violently shove napkins in the dispensers. “No, come out with me. Partying, clubbing, sock hopping, whatever floats your skipper.” 

Blaine was spared answering Santana’s ridiculous proposal as the bell above the door dinged. He immediately stuffed the rag in the pocket of his apron and moved to the cash register, smile already in place. As soon as he caught sight of the pair coming in, he stopped short, nearly knocking over the tip jar in his scramble to get behind the counter. 

He heard Santana snicker at him quietly as she busied herself with the various coffee machines. 

A man and a woman walked in, arm in arm, arguing in hushed voices. 

The woman was… brown, was the best Blaine could come up with. Brown hair, brown eyes and lightly tanned skin. Anyway, it didn’t matter what she looked like. Blaine couldn’t have cared less what she looked like.

At least, he had no reason to focus his attentions on her when she was standing next to _him_ , a young man with perfectly coiffed hair and a crimson scarf tied elegantly about his throat. His skin was ivory pale, and he had the bluest eyes that Blaine had ever seen, which was saying something, as Cooper spent that one long summer shopping for perfect blue contact lenses to make his eyes really pop, squirt, despite the fact that his eyes were pretty damn blue already. 

But, back the matter at hand. A veritable Adonis had just walked through the door and Blaine was woefully unprepared to do anything other than stare like a moron. 

“Come on, Kurt! I’m doing it, and Mr. Matherson said it’s the only way-” the brunette girl was saying. 

The man, _Kurt_ , Blaine gathered, scowled as he whispered something furiously in her ear. 

She drew up short, her eyes narrowing. “We can both help each other through it, okay?” 

Kurt sighed and nodded. “You owe me big for zis, Rachel.”

Blaine’s mouth nearly fell open in surprise as he heard the high lilting voice in the most beautiful French accent he had ever heard. Next to him, he heard Santana snicker quietly at his reaction. “Better watch yourself, Blainey. I think I can see the drool from here,” she muttered under her breath. 

Blaine shushed her with a hand as he returned his attention to the couple rapidly approaching the counter. He gave himself a split second to regain his composure and swallowed before saying clearly with a hopefully charming smile, “What can I get for you this morning?” 

“Um,” Rachel hedged, staring up at the chalk menu above Blaine’s head. “I’ll have a large soy vegan latte.” 

Blaine turned to Kurt, blinking nervously as those blue eyes turned to him. He sent a small thanks to his mother; glad that his tan skin tone didn’t blush easily or else he was sure he would have been as red as Kurt’s scarf. “And you?” 

Kurt glanced at Rachel. “Er, one nonfat mocha, s’il vous plaît.” 

She nodded encouragingly as Blaine rung up their orders. “You’re doing fine, Kurt.” She patted him comfortingly on the arm. 

“Zis is ‘umiliating,” he grumbled. 

Blaine coughed. “If you don’t mind me saying, your English is excellent,” he ventured shyly as he heard Santana busy herself with the coffees. 

Kurt flushed, but didn’t respond. 

After a moment, Rachel nudged him with her elbow. 

“What do you say, Kurt?” she wheedled. “This nice man just paid you a compliment.” 

Kurt glared at her. “Jest stop ‘elping.” He shook his head as her big brown eyes widened. “Zank you, zough,” he said graciously as he turned to Blaine. “Zat was a nice zing to say.” He gave Blaine a small, close-lipped smile, and Blaine felt his knees go weak. 

“M-my pleasure,” Blaine stammered. 

“Do you work here often?” Rachel asked interestedly, pointedly ignoring another glare Kurt threw her way. 

Blaine nodded. “Most mornings and Saturday nights.” 

“How long have you been working here?” 

“I just started this semester,” he replied, amused at the intensity of her questioning. 

Rachel’s smile widened. “Perfect. Kurt here is an international student from Paris staying for the rest of the semester.” By her side, Kurt huffed out an annoyed breath. 

“Rachel, I do not zink ‘e wants to ‘ear my life story.” He turned his baby blues onto Blaine curiously. “Do you?” 

Blaine shook his head, his eyes wide. “Um, I mean,” _I find you fascinating_ , “I don’t mind.” He shook his head again. 

Rachel beamed. “See, Kurt?” 

Blaine swallowed before saying tentatively, “How do you like New York?” 

Kurt ducked his head as Rachel giggled. “I like it veery much,” he admitted quietly. “I am steel getting uzed to all ze English.” 

“Well, you’re better than me,” Blaine said with a smile. “I mean, I took Italian for four years, and I can barely order pasta at the Italian place down the street.” Why would he do that? Now Kurt would think he was stupid because he wasn’t fucking fluent in such a gorgeous language like Fren- 

But his panicked train of thought was cut off by Kurt’s quiet chuckle. “Learning a new language iz hard, zat is true. I would know.” 

“Order up!” Santana barked as she set Rachel and Kurt’s orders down on the counter. 

“Santana,” Blaine hissed. 

“What?” she asked innocently as she watched Kurt and Rachel sit down at one of the tables. “I couldn’t take one more second of your bumbling attempts at flirting with Frenchie over there. Just grow a pair and get his number.” 

Blaine squeaked. “I can’t just go ask for his number,” he whispered in a heated voice. “I don’t even know if he’s gay.” 

Santana let out an obnoxiously loud peal of laughter. “Anderson, he’s just about as straight as I am. Why else would a man would wear a scarf like that? Or have hair that high?” 

Blaine shrugged. “He’s French. Maybe that’s how they dress over there.” 

Santana sighed. “Well, you’re the Vogue expert, not me. But, I don’t want to hear any moping from you when you get reacquainted with your right hand tonight. Especially when you could get newly acquainted with his-” 

“Santana!” Blaine yelped. “Please, please don’t say things like that.” 

She shook her head. “Jesus, lighten up.” 

“He could hear you,” Blaine hissed as he snuck a glance at the pair, currently deep in a hushed conversation. 

“Well, maybe then one of you would make a move,” Santana crowed. 

Blaine groaned. “You’re impossible.” 

“All part of my charm, hobbit.” 

“Don’t make me laugh,” Blaine chuckled. “I’m charming. You’re just terrifying.” 

Santana smirked. “Well, that ain’t so bad either.” She paused as her eyes flickered towards the door. “Oh damn.” 

Blaine followed her gaze to where several students began filing in, the first rush of the day. 

“Incoming,” she murmured as she swept past him to the coffee machines. “You ready?” 

Blaine sent one last longing look at Kurt where he was still talking with Rachel. “As I’ll ever be,” he sighed as he plastered on a smile for the approaching customer.


	2. Chapter 2

Embarrassingly enough, Kurt remained on Blaine’s mind for the whole rest of his day. Blaine kept messing up his choreography in his musical theater class, and he was just glad that his history of music was a big lecture so he could daydream all he wanted in the back row. He even looked up introductory French videos on youtube once he got home.

Blaine would be the first to admit it: he had it bad.

The next day, Kurt didn’t come into Common Grounds. Blaine’s head kept jerking up every time the bell atop the door rang, much to Santana’s amusement. Eventually his pining got too much for her and she relegated him to inventory duties in the back, assuring him that if Frog Legs did show up, he’d be the first one to know. It didn’t stop him from hating her a tiny bit, though.

To be honest, he didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing. The more he dwelled on it, the more he realized how painfully out of his league Kurt was. He was French, sophisticated and worldly.

And who was Blaine?

A small-town boy from Ohio desperately trying to not let the big city swallow him whole. 

Clearly, he would never even compare to Kurt. Kurt, with the perfect eyes, perfect hair and perfect skin. Kurt, who probably had a girlfriend or boyfriend who had legs for miles (just like Kurt) waiting for him back in Paris because he was gorgeous and there was no way that he was single, so why was Blaine even wasting his time? Oh right, because he was hopelessly smitten-

"Who the fuck uses the word smitten anymore, Anderson? Get your ass back behind the counter!"

And by the third day of moping about, Blaine had almost given up hope of seeing Kurt again.

So, of course, that was when Kurt strolled in, this times sans Rachel, at eight thirty in the morning, looking as perfect as ever. Unfortunately, he came in at just the morning rush, so Blaine was stuck mixing drinks instead of taking orders. He didn’t even get to use the French he had practiced earlier that week. Maybe it was just as well, he was sure his accent was positively atrocious.

The next day was Kurt free again, and Santana only told him off twice for daydreaming over the cash register. Blaine called that progress.

The next morning Blaine came in bright and early at seven thirty. To his surprise, none other than Kurt was the first customer, precisely at eight. 

Blaine blinked rapidly for a moment, sure that the image before him was a product of college-induced insomnia and too much caffeine.

“Hi,” Kurt greeted as he walked up to the counter.

Blaine started. “Bonjour,” he corrected with a smile.

Kurt’s eyes widened, and Blaine momentarily saw a flash of something behind his eyes before Kurt blinked, his face open and friendly once more. “You know French?” he asked after a second, sounding impressed.

“Uh, not really,” Blaine said, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Eet is a good start,” Kurt returned, a small smile hitching up the corner of his mouth. 

He heard Santana cough pointedly behind him and murmured, “Gay,” in his ear as she passed.

“So, um, what can I get you?” Blaine asked, pointedly ignoring Santana’s comment.

“One nonfat mocha?” Kurt ordered, opening his wallet to pay.

“One nonfat mocha coming right up,” Blaine said as he punched in the price to the cash register. “Where’s your friend?”

“Rachel?” Kurt clarified with a frown. “She lef me so she can practice ‘er solo for ze winter musical.”

Blaine smiled. “She’s singing in the winter musical? That’s fantastic.”

“Why?” He held out his hand for his change. “Do you want to see ‘er?” he asked as he avoided Blaine’s gaze while putting his change away.

Blaine laughed. “No,” he said without thinking. “Shit. I mean,” he backtracked a split second later, “She’s your friend, so she must be a lovely person. Because you’re a - I just meant that it sucks that your friend ditched you. I, um, don’t have anything against her.” Blaine shoved his hands in his pockets nervously. “I just met her once, and I just noticed that she talked a lot. Not that talking a lot is a bad thing. Obviously.”

To Blaine’s utter bafflement, Kurt seemed hardly put off by his incessant rambling. Instead, he let out a delighted laugh. “Zat is true. Ze ‘as a veery loud personality and I did not want to speak much.”

“But good for her that she got a solo in the winter musical,” Blaine said fairly. “She had some steep competition.”

“You know it?” Kurt asked in a hushed voice, his eyes wide as he stared at Blaine.

Blaine’s mouth went dry, mesmerized by Kurt’s expressive blue eyes. “Uh yeah, I know it,” he stammered once he’d regained what was left of his wits. “I’m a musical theater major, so I know all about it.”

Kurt blinked at Blaine, and then his face split into a wide smile. “Zat’s great,” he said sincerely. “I study ze musical theatre also.”

Blaine felt his heart pound in his chest. “No kidding?” he laughed, his voice cracking on the second syllable. “Do you like it?

“I love it,” Kurt said, smiling happily. “Zat’s why I came ‘ere, for ze musical theatre program.” He chuckled. “Well, zat and my English.”

“Which is improving already,” Blaine replied. 

Kurt ducked his head, embarrassed. “Zank you.” He giggled quietly. “But you ‘ave only met me a week ago. Zere is no way you could possibly ‘ear a difference.”

Blaine shrugged and tapped his ear slyly. “Trained musician. Hearing subtle changes is my thing.”

Kurt laughed. “Well zen, merci.”

“Well,” a voice started behind Blaine, and he whirled around to catch sight of Santana holding a coffee cup, a smug smile curling her lip, “Aren’t you two the most adorable things I’ve ever seen? Careful, or I just might puke up rainbows if I hear another word. I have your mocha, sunshine. Have a great day!”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, but Santana’s hand never wavered. “Here you go, Lady Lips. Enjoy!” She shook the cup at him.

Kurt immediately flushed as he reached for his coffee, and Blaine whirled on Santana. “Hey,” he said, taking a step forward. “That was completely uncalled for.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “Please, like he’s never heard that one before.” She frowned as her eyes darted over to something over Kurt’s shoulder. “Not even goodbye? Rude!” she called.

“Santana,” Blaine groaned in horror. He turned around just in time to see the door close on Kurt’s back. “What did you do?”

She smirked. “Relax, hobbit. He’ll be back, there’s no way he could resist your gorgeous ass.”

Blaine’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

“I know him,” Santana said, jerking her head towards the door. “Trust me, he’ll be back.”

Blaine shook his head. “I can’t believe you. You heard how I was going on about him. Why would you ruin that? I thought we were friends.” He paused, his expression turning to one of confusion. “And what do you mean you know him?”

Santana’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, I know his type.”

“And what type would that be?” Blaine asked sourly.

“The stupid smitten type, dumbass.” Santana crossed her arms across her chest. “Anybody with eyes could tell that he’s way into you. I wasn’t joking when I said looking at you two makes me want to vomit rainbows.”

“Santana, if he never shows up again, I swear-”

Santana cut him off with an exasperated, “You’ll what, tie me up with your extensive bowtie collection until the end of days? Wanky.” She winked at him as she flounced away to get something from the back room. “Just wait, Frodo. And don’t you dare think about sneaking off to find him, I’m still the one paying your ass.”

Blaine sighed and let himself have one last longing glance at the front door before turning to attend to the newest customer.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later there was still no sign of Kurt, and Blaine was ready to murder Santana. It didn’t help that it was his last shift before the weekend, since Friday nights were the worst, with just him and Santana, and tempers were running high.

Blaine had made one last comment about Kurt as the last customer had left, and Santana had snapped.

“Look, if he can’t handle me, then you’re better off without him is all I’m saying,” she said sharply.

“I can’t believe how selfish you’re being,” Blaine fumed. “You should’ve apologized to him!”

“Like hell was that ever going to happen,” she scoffed. 

“I’d suggest that you call him to say you’re sorry, but you can’t because I don’t have his number!”

“And whose fault is that? I told you to get it!”

“Well, it’s clearly too late now!”

She sighed and ran a hand through her dark hair. “Look, I’m sure Kurt’s just busy. Just take this weekend off and relax, okay?”

“I just can’t believe you said that to him,” he hissed. “You’ve only met him three times, and somehow you felt the need to mercilessly mock him.”

“Yeah, well, he got what was going to him,” Santana murmured. “But, for what it’s worth, Blaine,” she said, looking him straight in the eye, “I hope he comes back. If just for your sanity.”

It was his first name more than anything that made Blaine drop his hostility. “What?” he asked stupidly after a moment.

Santana sighed. “I know that you like him, and I’m sorry he’s making you wait.”

“Oh.” He sat down at on the nearest table. “That’s… not what I was expecting. That was a surprisingly… nice thing to say.”

Clearly this whole sorry thing wasn’t going to last. Because Santana was… well, Santana. Without further ado, she pushed herself off the counter. “Soak up the niceties while you can, Blainey boy, because they don’t come that often. Can you lock up? Britt and I have a thing later.” She went to retrieve her jacket from the back room. 

Blaine sighed as he began to prop the chairs atop the tables. “Sure thing.”

“See you Monday, Blainers!” She walked past a moment later, blowing him a kiss. “Don’t steal from the cash register, and don’t do naughty things with the caramel syrup!”

“Goodbye, Santana,” Blaine called, laughing.

And so it was with a heavy heart that Blaine locked up Common Grounds for the night. But that was okay, because he was used to it. He had to be. So he had a crush; it was bound to go away if he never saw Kurt again. And that was good, as that was what probably was going to happen. God knew Santana had seen to that. Plus, it was what he wanted, right? Kurt clearly had no reason to look twice at Blaine. Kurt was never going to look at Blaine and wonder what songs he sang in the shower, or what he did in his free time, or what was his favorite season. Obviously Kurt had better things to do than engage in meaningless conversation with a barista. Blaine knew this.

It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less, though.

Blaine flipped the sign on the door from open to closed and locked the door securely. Tiredly, he hiked his messenger bag up further on his shoulder and he was just about to step away from the door when he heard a tiny barely-there cough. Blaine turned to find the one person who had been on his mind all day.

Not two feet away from him stood Kurt, looking absolutely stunning in his long winter coat and elegant leather gloves.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed, a small smile spreading across his face.

Blaine flushed, conscious of his beaten up converse and fingerless gloves left over from his old busking days of freshman year. “Kurt! Um, hi.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“I am on my way home from ze rehearsal,” Kurt explained. 

“You live around here?” Blaine asked, surprised.

Kurt nodded. “Just over at McKeenly,” he said with a gesture down the street. “Eet is not far.”

“What were you, um, rehearsing?” Blaine busied himself with adjusting his knitted beanie. 

Kurt grinned. “A play. Eet is a small group at ze university. We write and produce our own plays.”

Blaine smiled. “Very impressive,” he commended. He waited a moment, hoping, for that brilliant burst of charisma and charm that could wow a crowd in half a verse and have them eating out of his hand after one chorus. He knew he had it in him. Unfortunately, it appeared that Blaine had left it back behind the cash register. Shit. Panicked, he searched his mind for a response, any response, to keep the conversation going. After half a second he asked, “How did you get involved with it?” and then wanted to kick himself for being so stilted and awful at acting like a normal human being.

Apparently Blaine’s discomfort was rubbing off on Kurt, as he started shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Oh, er, eet was just somezing I found online. Eet is great fun, though. Ze ozzer actors are fantastiques.”

“That’s great.”

Kurt hummed in agreement.

Blaine shoved his hands in his pockets, wondering why everything had to be so awkward. He had so many things he wanted to know about Kurt, but couldn’t bring himself to voice any of them.

“Look,” Kurt said after a moment. “Eet is a lot of cold outside. Do you want to come wiz me to my _appartement?”_ A split second later, Kurt’s eyes widened. “Eef you are not busy, of course,” he added hastily. “Because I totally understand eef you ‘ave zings to do on a Friday night. Friday night is veery populaire to do zings, n’est pas?”

Blaine laughed out loud, cutting Kurt’s increasingly French ramblings. “I’d love to hang out at your apartment, Kurt,” Blaine said reassuringly once Kurt had paused for breath. “Show me the way?” he asked, gesturing down the street with one of his hands.

Kurt nodded happily and gave Blaine a small smile, which he returned immediately. “Eet is just this way, not veery far,” Kurt explained as he led them forward.

“How long have you been on campus then, if you’re already got a part in a play?” Blaine asked interestedly.

Kurt shrugged. “I got ‘ere one month ago, and I will stay unteel your Spring vacations.”

“Half a semester?” Blaine guessed.

Kurt nodded. “Zen back to Paris,” he said with a sigh.

“Do you miss it?” Blaine asked.

Kurt shook his head emphatically. “Pas du tout,” he said with a laugh. At Blaine’s stupefied look, he explained, “Not at all. Paris is nice, but so is New York City. Zere is so much to do ‘ere, I cannot possibly miss Paris or be bored.”

Blaine grinned. “That’s true. I suppose it’s different coming from a big city and all, but I grew up in a small town in Ohio and I don’t miss it at all.” 

Kurt’s boot caught in a crack in the pavement, and Blaine barely reached out in time to keep him from pitching face first into the sidewalk.

“Woah there,” Blaine said cautiously, helping Kurt up. “Careful. Cobblestones take some getting used to,” he said ruefully.

Kurt raised his head, blushing furiously. “Zank you,” he said quietly.

Blaine released his arm. “Ah, well, then,” he stammered, jamming his hand once more in his pocket. “Happens to all of us. I remember I was singing lead in front of my whole high school, and I was a freshman, which was a big deal. So, me, being young and stupid and totally full of myself, decided to amp up the performance a little, you know, acting out the lyrics, serenading random people in the crowd.” Blaine grinned at the memory. “And then there was this one lyric that went, DJ passed out in the yard so my big plan was to climb on the couch and fall down, you know, acting?”

Kurt giggled quietly. “I do know what acting is, Blaine.”

Blaine felt his face heat up and tried to ignore the fluttering around his stomach. “Right, of course you do,” he muttered. “Anyway,” he said, determined to finish his story, “I climbed up on the couch, belting out the words like a pro, and then I must’ve slipped or overestimated the distance to the seat of the couch because I face plant right in the middle of the performance.” Blaine shrugged and kept walking. 

Kurt laughed and then looked up. “Zat must ‘ave been quite a show.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Blaine said darkly. “It’s even on youtube, if you want to check it out.” He groaned. “And I’m totally going to regret saying that just about… now.”  
Kurt laughed again, and Blaine wished the sound didn’t do funny things to his insides. “Really? And ‘ow would I find somezing like zat?

Blaine made a face. “You’re really going to make me tell you?” he asked, grimacing.

Kurt grinned wickedly. “I can be veery persuasive,” he said.

“I’m sure,” Blaine said under his breath.

“What was zat?”

“Nothing!”

“We are ‘ere,” he announced as the pair paused in front of a typical looking apartment building. “I live wiz Rachel. Do you remember ‘er?”

“Of course,” Blaine said, although the memory was hazy. Mostly he could just remember Kurt, and how perfect he looked the first time he met him. Not that he’d ever tell him any of that.

Kurt quickly led him though the antechamber and then up two flights of stairs. He opened the door, calling, “Rachel? Es-tu là bas?”

They heard her first, calling from the bathroom, “Come on, Kurt. You know I-”

Kurt coughed loudly. “We ‘ave company, if you were wondering,” he said with a pointed look at Blaine. 

Rachel poked her head out from the bathroom, wearing a wide smile and holding a hairbrush. “Hi!” she chirped. “You’re Blaine, right?”

“Right,” Blaine confirmed.

“And you’re here! Did Kurt finally invite you over? I bet he did. You know, he’s really-”

“Zat is enough of zat,” Kurt cut her off swiftly as he hung up his jacket and motioned for Blaine to do the same. “Don’t you ‘ave a performance to get reedy for?” 

Rachel let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “But it’s not for another hour.”

“And you ‘ave at least an ‘our and a ‘alf of hair and makeup waiting for you,” Kurt said critically as he gave her a once over.

“But Kurt-”

“Go get reedy, Rachel. You can make friends later,” Kurt told her before turning towards the kitchen. “Blaine? You can seet wherever you want to. Do you want somezing to drink? We have water, orange juice, beer and wine.” He pulled open the refrigerator door and skimmed his hands along the shelf as he considered the options.

With a disappointed huff, Rachel flounced back into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“Just water’s fine,” Blaine said quickly as he sat down on the main couch that was pushed up against the back of the counter. He twisted around in his seat to see Kurt by the sink.

Kurt nodded and got out two glasses. “Sorry about ‘er,” he apologized, jerking his head towards the bathroom. “She ‘as no tact. Or sense of boundaries.”

Blaine chuckled. “She’s fine. It’s good that you two get along so well.” He watched as Kurt finished in the kitchen and brought a glass of water to him. “I’m the same way with my friends.”

He took a moment to stare about the apartment, noting the wide-open space and the spare, but artfully placed furniture. Everything was in the normal eclectic broke-college student style, but with a flare of taste that Blaine hadn’t seen in a while. He wondered who had done their decorating.

“You have a very nice apartment,” he said politely.

Kurt smiled and sat down next to Blaine on the couch. “Zank you. I actually designed most of eet.”

“Really?” Blaine whistled. “It’s nicely done. They let you decorate it even if you’re moving back to Paris?”

Kurt flushed. “Eet is Rachel’s apartment, and she gave me free reign.” He shrugged.

“That’s nice of her,” Blaine said. “So, you and Rachel…” he drifted off, avoiding Kurt’s eyes. “She’s just your roommate?”

From out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Kurt give him a funny look. “She is azzo my best friend,” he explained slowly.

Blaine took a sip of water before hesitantly asking, “So two aren’t…” 

Kurt’s eyes snapped up to Blaine’s and let out a loud laugh, his eyes closing and his nose scrunched up in delight. “Me and Rachel? Er, no, nozzing like zat. Mon dieu, zat would be terrible.”

Blaine let out a relieved giggle. “Oh,” he said, staring down at his hands. “That’s… good. That’s good.”

“I am not interested in ze women,” Kurt said slowly. He turned to regard Blaine, his blue eyes dark and calculating. “Do you ‘ave a problem wiz zat?”

“No?” Blaine squeaked. He coughed. “No,” he said in a more normal voice. “Of course not.” He shook his head violently. “I, um, I’m gay. Too. I’m gay too.” Why don’t you say it one more time, I don’t think he quite got the message. Idiot.

Kurt’s expression immediately relaxed, the hardness disappearing from the lines around his mouth and set to his jaw.

God, Blaine really needed to stop staring at Kurt’s mouth. He was barely keeping it together as it was.

All of the sudden, Kurt giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Blaine asked petulantly.

“Nozzing,” Kurt said immediately, blushing scarlet. At Blaine’s disbelieving look, he relented, “It is just zat most people do not ever assume zat I am straight.” He shrugged. “You did. Eet was funny.”

“Hilarious,” Blaine deadpanned.

Kurt just smiled.

From then on, everything seemed to fall into place. Blaine’s nerves never left him entirely, but he stopped second guessing every other word that came out of his mouth, and Kurt was all wide smiles and cute accents. They didn’t share anything deep by any means, but somehow it seemed more than a first meeting between future friends – at least, it seemed that way to Blaine. He couldn’t be that sure about Kurt, though. Kurt did seem to be enjoying himself, if Blaine judged by how often Kurt laughed at his rather dorky jokes or poor attempts at charm. Blaine, it almost went without saying, was having the best night he had in a while.

A half hour later, Rachel left with a quick goodbye and a sly giggle or two. 

And it was only when she came back hours after, that Blaine realized how late it had gotten.

The sound of a key turning in the lock, and the pair of them spun around from where they were talking on the living room couch to watch, as Rachel reappeared a moment later. She spotted them a moment later and brightened. “You two are still here?” she asked in a low voice as she slipped off her coat and unwound her scarf.

“Um, yeah, sorry about that,” Blaine said hurriedly. “I don’t want to intrude-”

Rachel snorted. “Like you’re intruding anywhere. What I meant was, why are you still here? Kurt’s bedroom is that way.” She pointed her finger at the door in question. 

“Rachel-” Kurt started in a strangled voice.

“What?” she demanded, whirling on him. “I can practice my scales in my bedroom, and god knows I can be loud enough to drown out whatever—”

“Rachel!” Kurt yelped, blushing an impressive shade of crimson. “Zat is not ze point. We are just friends.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Rachel. \

Blaine cleared his throat and plastered on his best showman face. “Right,” he echoed, “Just friends.”

Rachel shrugged. “Well, if you and your friend are going to be moving to the bedroom, just let me know!” she called as she disappeared into her bedroom.

Blaine inhaled a sharp breath. “Crap,” he said as Rachel shut the bedroom door behind her. “What time is it?”

Kurt pulled out his phone. “Nearly one in ze morning,” he marveled with a stunned look on his face. “I did not realize eet ‘ad gotten so late. I am so veery sorry,” he apologized, an appropriately chastised look on his face.

Blaine shook his head as he got up from the coat. “I’m not sorry. I had a lot of fun tonight, Kurt.”

“Good,” Kurt said, and then he bit his lip.

Blaine turned away to fetch his coat and hat. 

“Can I ‘ave your phone?” Kurt asked in a soft voice.

“What?” Blaine cursed the way his voice cracked. “Um, sure,” he said, fishing around in his jeans pocket for his phone. Kurt took it wordlessly and began typing in something. “Zere,” he said a moment later, thrusting it back at Blaine. “I put my number in zere. Text me when you get home, okay?”

Blaine grinned and nodded.

Kurt let out a relieved sigh. “Good. I fear for leetle boys from Ohio in ze big ceety,” he said, smirking.

Blaine groaned. “I’ll be fine. I’m not that hopeless.”

Kurt shrugged. “Probably not, but I will steel worry. Text me s’il te plaît?”

Blaine turned to leave. “Of course.”

When Blaine got home twenty minutes later, his fingers hesitated before sending the message.

From: Blaine  
Back at home!

From: Kurt  
Glad to hear it. No problems getting there?

From: Blaine  
Well, I did have to fight off a couple of thugs with just my bag when I decided to take a shortcut. Then it started raining, but luckily I was saved by a masked vigilante who fought them off for me. We even shared a passionate kiss after it was all over.

From: Kurt  
Spiderman?

From: Blaine  
No, it’s Blaine. Spiderman doesn’t exist, Kurt. Although I am impressed by your American cinematic knowledge

From: Kurt  
You are ridiculous

From: Blaine  
Hopefully in a good way?

From: Kurt  
The best


	4. Chapter 4

After that night, Kurt started to come by Common Grounds more often. In fact, he later confided to Blaine that it had become sort of his morning routine. He would get up, get ready, get coffee and get to class. Kurt and Blaine rarely saw each other during the week apart from Kurt’s coffee runs, but Fridays were quickly for movies, Project Runway marathons, or just hanging out and talking. Somehow they both developed an unspoken rule that Friday nights were not to be disturbed, and it remained that way, until about three weeks later and a handful of days before the start of spring break when Kurt was due to leave.

It was quickly turning out to be the week of hell, and it was only Tuesday. First of all, Blaine had skipped work on Monday because he needed to pull an all-nighter for his music theory class final. Then the final itself was absolute murder, of course. Thus, he didn’t get his daily dose of Kurt to start the week, and now it was towards the end of his shift – way past Kurt’s usual mocha time – and Blaine had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Kurt wasn’t going to show up.

  
He glanced to Santana, who was chatting with a pretty customer over the counter.

“San? I’m going to clock out,” Blaine called.

“Sure, whatever, hobbit,” Santana said, her eyes not deviating from the leggy blonde in front of her.

Blaine risked one more glance at the Kurt-free door and sighed before hanging up his apron and gathering his things from the back room. Blaine pulled out his phone once he got to the sidewalk, his face falling when he read the last message from Kurt, which was dated yesterday morning.

From: Kurt  
Santana told me about your exam. Bonne chance :)

From: Blaine  
Thanks… I think!

Blaine swallowed and tried to crush the swell of feelings blocking his throat. It was stupid. They didn’t have scheduled meetings anyway, after all. He had no hold on Kurt. He wasn’t Kurt’s, and Kurt wasn’t his. They were just friends, and friends bailed on each other every so often. It happened.

So why did it hurt so much?

It was just that every time he saw Kurt, he fell a little bit harder. Kurt was just so snarky, so fabulous and so perfect, and Blaine almost couldn’t handle it sometimes, especially when they were curled up against each other in Kurt’s apartment watching romantic comedies like they did every Friday. This whole predicament was Blaine’s fault, really. He was happy with just friendship. Kurt hadn’t given any indication that he liked Blaine more than just a friend, and for sure Blaine wasn’t going to make the first move. Plus, Kurt came with a timestamp. He was leaving the country for god’s sake in six days. First of all, he shouldn’t even be thinking about that because he was quite happy on his little Island of Denial that Kurt wasn’t ever leaving at all. Secondly, Blaine would just be setting himself up for heartbreak anyway if he got involved with Kurt now.

Blaine mentally gave himself a little shake to rid himself of his bad mood. It wasn’t doing him any good.

He was mentally cataloguing all the other things he had to do that week, when he saw them, just as he passed the Starbucks nearest he dorm. Kurt and an older man, sitting right by the window.

Blaine’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach, and he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He stared, willing the scene playing before him to change, but the longer he looked, the more intimate the pair seemed. The man was laughing at whatever Kurt was telling him, and Kurt’s clear blue eyes were sparkling as he made a dramatic gesture with his hands.  
And then, like some bizarre nightmare, Kurt turned to look out the window and Blaine found himself unable to move, rooted to the spot.

Kurt’s face lit up and he motioned for Blaine to wait. After saying to something to the man, Kurt got up from his seat and hurried out of Starbucks. Blaine’s heart soared in his chest.  
A moment later, Kurt was before him, all smiles and joy. “Blaine!”

Blaine coughed. “Um, hi, Kurt,” he stumbled. “How are you? We missed you this morning at Common Grounds.”

“Oh yeah, sorry about zat,” he apologized. “Zis was ze only time Adam was free and I did not get ze chance to tell you yesterday. ‘Ow was your exam?”

Blaine shrugged. “It’s over,” he said eventually.

“Zat is all zat matters,” Kurt said sincerely. “So you are back to ze coffee house?”

“Just getting off and I was just going to see if you’re free… which you’re obviously not,” Blaine said sheepishly. “Obviously.”

Kurt’s face fell. “Maybe anozzer time?” he asked hopefully.

Blaine sighed but somehow mustered up a small smile. “Maybe,” he echoed.

Kurt nodded, then his eyes widened. “Oh, Blaine, before I forget, I do not zink I can make it zis Friday?”

“Why, hot date?” Blaine asked half-joking, and wholly dreading the answer.

Kurt’s answering blush was more than enough, anyway. “Yes,” he muttered after a moment, turning slightly to catch the eye of the man sitting at the table he had just vacated.  
Blaine inhaled a sharp breath as he felt his heart crack. “Oh that’s great,” he said weakly. “You should be getting out, experiencing American culture and all that.”

Kurt’s eyes dimmed. “D’accord,” he mumbled. “Mais c’est dommage que tu veux pas voir les spectacles avec moi.”

“What’s that?” Blaine asked Kurt hardly ever slipped into French anymore. Usually it was just when he was really excited – most of whatever Kurt said during the Bachelorette was in French, at least – or whenever he was feeling particularly emotional – again, mostly French during the Bachelorette.

“Zat is a good idea,” Kurt said as he fiddled with the ends of his scarf, lighter than the wool one he had been wearing for the past couple of months. “Eet is true.”

And then, because although Blaine was the worst kind of masochist imaginable, he was a damn good friend, he said, “Probably because you keep hanging out with me Friday nights, Kurt.”

“But I like being wiz you,” Kurt argued in a quiet voice.

Blaine shook his head. “I’ll see you around, Kurt. I have to get to class,” he lied as he began to walk ago. “Have fun on Friday.”

Kurt stared at him, bewildered at the sudden exit. “Zank you?” he called, but Blaine pretended not to hear it.

As he hurried away, Blaine wiped at the bitter sting of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. This was stupid. He could think of a billion reasons why he and Kurt wouldn’t work out. But to be faced with reality, to have the door slammed in his face and to shut down his hope, that was something that Blaine had been totally unprepared for. And yet, all he could think of was Kurt: Kurt singing duets with him as they cooked dinner, Kurt telling him about coming out to his father, Kurt describing his unfortunate crush on his future step-brother… all Kurt, Kurt, KURT.

Blaine sleepwalked through the rest of his week, throwing himself into his schoolwork and classes. He tried to not think about Kurt and all the heartbreak, but it was hard. He had never realized how much he relied on Kurt to get him through the day. He stopped responding to idle texts that afternoon, and he made sure to always be in the back working the machines around the time that Kurt would come in for coffee in the mornings.

By the time Friday came around, Blaine had bee Kurt-free for two days. He was miserable, but surviving. Barely.

But really, Blaine told himself over and over again, it was for the best. Kurt had fifteen days left in New York. Kurt was gorgeous and Blaine was awkward and dorky. Kurt also didn’t want Blaine.

And with those depressing thoughts as company that Friday night, Blaine flopped down on his bed and pulled out his computer, fully ready to watch a couple feel good movies and call it an early night.

He had just finished Beauty and the Beast and had Mulan prepped and ready to go when he heard a series of knocks at the door. Blaine glanced at the clock, frowning. It was nearly midnight. His roommate was supposed to be out with his girlfriend at her apartment the whole night. Baffled, he pulled open the door to reveal… Kurt, standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable and avoiding Blaine’s gaze.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed. “Um, what are you doing here?” he asked, confused.

Kurt threw him a look. “Can I come in?” he asked.

Blaine wordlessly gestured for Kurt to come inside, and Kurt swept past him to stand awkwardly in the center of the room.

“You were not picking up ze phone,” he said without preamble.

Blaine blinked. He strode over to where his jacket was draped over the back of his chair and fished out his phone, noting the five missed messages from Kurt. He lifted his head, holding up his lit up screen. “On silent,” he explained sheepishly.

Kurt looked unimpressed.

“Sorry. What was it you wanted to ask me about?” he asked, scrolling through his messages. “You said you had something to tell me?”

“I – nozzing,” Kurt said as he sat primly on the very edge of Blaine’s bed.

Blaine raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment. Instead, he sat down in his desk chair, wheeling it around to face Kurt. “What’s up?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked at his best friend.

“Can we stop pretending zat zere is not something going on? ’Ave you been ignoring me?” Kurt asked.

Blaine opened his mouth to deny everything, but he took one look into Kurt’s eyes and the words caught in his throat. Instead, he simply nodded.

Kurt’s shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth turned down in a small frown. “I zought so,” he muttered. “Why, Blaine?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly. “I zought we were friends.”

Blaine’s hand was already halfway towards reaching to Kurt when he stopped himself. With an almighty effort, he lowered his hand as Kurt watched curiously. “We are friends, Kurt. Of course we are,” he assured him. “It’s just that now… I think it’s best if we’re… not.”

“Why?”

“How was the date, Kurt?” Blaine asked dully.

“What?” Kurt asked, drawing up short.

“The date?” Blaine repeated, raising his eyebrows. “How did it go? I’m guessing not well if you’re over here instead of his place.”

Kurt shifted nervously on the bed. “Eet was okay,” he said shortly. “But why-”

“Because, Kurt,” Blaine cut him off, “I didn’t want to make things awkward for you if you were interested in someone else.” He shrugged.

“So you are saying zat two gay man cannot be friends?” Kurt asked flatly.

“No, no, Kurt, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Blaine assured him. “I’m just saying that we cannot be friends.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I do not understand.”

Blaine crossed his arms across his chest and glared at the floor. “I – Kurt I don’t want to make you choose between him and me.”

“But you will anyway?” Kurt asked shrewdly.

Blaine swallowed and gave a tiny nod.

“Why?”

Blaine licked his lips and fidgeted slightly in his seat before saying, “I don’t suppose you’ll drop it if I ask nicely?”

Kurt smiled slightly. “Non. C’est impossible, not to mention unfair to me. Tell me, Blaine?”

“I like you, Kurt,” he blurted. “I’ve liked you for a long time, actually.” Blaine felt his face heat up, but he couldn’t stop himself now. “Look, I know you don’t feel the same, and you’re leaving in a couple days – but I really like you. Being friends with you has been the best thing that’s happened to me in a really long time, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with declarations of love – not that I’m in love with you, of course,” Blaine backtracked hurriedly, heat rising to flood his cheeks. “But that’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Because it hurt so fucking much to think of you with someone else,” he mumbled in a hushed voice.

“I ‘ad a terrible time tonight,” Kurt stated once Blaine was done. “Zat is why I came over, because I cannot zink of a better way to spend my last Friday before ze vacations.”  
Blaine turned to stare at him, eyes wide with shock and wonder. “Really?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry.

Kurt smiled. “Of course.”

“It, um, doesn’t bother you?” Blaine asked shyly as he ducked his head to avoid Kurt’s gaze. “My… feelings?” He peered up at Kurt a moment later through his lashes, feeling his stomach swoop as he saw Kurt’s answering grin.

Kurt shook his head. “Not at all,” he assured Blaine. “Now wheech film were you watching? I can recognize ze DVD menu when I see one.”

Blaine blushed. “Mulan? It felt like a Mulan kind of night.”

“Don’t you mean eet is a Mulan night every night?” Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows.

Blaine laughed as he watched Kurt lean over to grab Blaine’s computer and haul it onto his lap.

Kurt looked expectantly at Blaine over the laptop screen. “Okay zen, are you going to be watching me ze whole night?” he demanded seriously, a smile threatening in the corners of his mouth. “Beecause eet is impossible to watch ze film from all ze way over zere. Come here, Blaine. Zere is plenty of room.” He indicated a space on the bed next to him, and Blaine needed no further encouragement than that to hop on the bed next to Kurt.

“I’ve always loved his movie,” Blaine muttered as the opening credits began to play, the gentle swirl of black ink bleeding onto the sepia canvas.

Kurt hummed in agreement.

“I’m glad that you’re here, Kurt,” Blaine confided a moment later as he tentatively leaned into Kurt and placed his head in the crook of his neck. “I’m glad that you’re spending your last Friday in New York with me.”

Blaine felt Kurt’s chest rise and fall as he let out a deep sigh. “Look, Blaine,” he began, “Zere is somezing I need to tell you, okay? After ze movie. Eet is important.”

Blaine nodded, too comfortable to do anything else. He wiggled his does underneath the blanket at his feet, a small smile of content escaping him as he looked up to see the bright lights of the movie reflected in Kurt’s blue irises.

Pretty soon, Blaine was dozing in front of the movie, half slumped over on Kurt, who had an arm wrapped around him and was resting his chin on Blaine’s head. “This ’s good,” he yawned an hour later, blinking blearily at the screen while Mulan was getting unmasked as a girl.

“You awake?” Kurt asked him quietly, and Blaine could have sworn he felt a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“M’be.”

Kurt chuckled quietly. “Okay then, but Blaine… just so you know… I like you too,” he whispered, “I like you a lot, actually.” His voice sounded off to Blaine’s ears. Then again, he was more than half-asleep, completely exhausted from getting through his hellish week, moping all day and baring his soul an hour ago to Kurt.

Blaine slept well that night, curled up against Kurt.


	5. Chapter 5

The next couple of days were spent in a flurry of packing for both Kurt and Blaine. Blaine wanted to host a goodbye party for Kurt the night before his flight out, but Kurt quickly shot down that plan, saying that he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and that he just wanted to spend as much time with Blaine as possible without having to deal with anybody else. And, well, there was no way that Blaine was going to ague with that logic.

Then, all too soon the day of Kurt’s flight was upon them. Blaine drove Kurt to the airport and dropped him off without too much trouble. He saved his tears for when he got back to his dorm and immediately pulled out his phone to stare at the last picture they took together. Unfortunately he couldn’t spend the day wallowing in his misery, as Blaine himself left for Ohio the next day. So he sent a quick e-mail to Kurt, hoping that he had a pleasant flight and got home safe.

Ohio was the same as it ever was, boring and flat. Blaine resisted e-mailing Kurt and instead tried to fill the Kurt-shaped hole in his chest with as much Warbler reunions, Disney movies and caffeine as possible. 

It didn’t really work all too well, but it was better than stalking Kurt on Facebook. When he had first met, Kurt had assured Blaine that he didn’t have one, but from the way he had been blushing and rambling in French, Blaine guessed that he was lying and just had embarrassing photos or something. However, after an hour of searching, all Blaine found was four Kurt Hummels, two from California and one from Indiana. The last one was even from Lima, Ohio, which made Blaine feel very wistful.

He thought he had been doing a relatively good job of getting over Kurt until he got back to Common Grounds two weeks later.

Santana took one look at him and then rolled her eyes. “You look like hell, hobbit. Like you tried to get that ring all by yourself and fell into that volcano,” Santana told him plainly as she regarded him from behind the counter.

“Was that an actual Lord of the Rings reference?” Blaine asked as he walked past her to retrieve his apron.

Santana shrugged. “My old high school glee club met up over break and Trouty Mouth insisted that we watch all of them back to back. Luckily all the fighting scenes were long enough for me and Britt to sneak of and have a quickie in the bathroom.” Santana paused. “It was worth it, just so see Porcelain lose his shit when we borrowed some of his lotion to-”

Blaine shuddered. “Please, spare me the details.”

Santana smirked. “Do our lady parts disgust you that much, Little Lord Fauntlegay?”

Blaine shook his head as he went from table to table, setting the chairs down on the floor. “No,” he said calmly.

Santana huffed out a laugh. “Did you spend your break missing Frenchie?” she asked abruptly.

Blaine scowled. “Yes,” he said shortly.

“Aw, isn’t that sappy?” Santana cooed. 

“Knock it off, Santana,” Blaine growled. “Not now.”

She sighed. “You really got it bad, don’t you?”

Blaine shrugged and turned his back to her to finish with the chairs by the window.

Santana was quiet for a moment. “You know, hobbit,” she said slowly, and Blaine tilted his head to regard her curiously. “If you want to talk,” she said, raising her right hand to focus on her cuticles, “You can talk to me,” she finished. “I swear I don’t bite.” She grinned. “Well, only if you say pretty please.”

Blaine was silent as he mulled over Santana’s words. “It’s just now sinking in that he won’t come by anymore for his morning non-fat mocha,” he explained quietly.

Santana blinked. “Well, I’m not too sure about that,” she drawled.

Blaine almost knocked over a table in his haste to stare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded hurriedly.

She shrugged. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

Blaine groaned. “You’re terrible at this.”  
“Hey,” she said, wagging a finger at him, “I just said that I’d listen. I didn’t say I’d be helpful. That’s a whole other game that I kind of suck at. Now get to work. I’m not paying you to sit around moping all day. Do that on your own time, not mine.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and gave her a quick salute before ducking into the back room. After his shift ended, Blaine hurried back to his dorm to get ready for his next class at noon. For the first time all break, he felt the stirrings of excitement. He had been trying to get into Matherson’s Stanislavski Acting class since his second semester freshman year, and he had finally gotten in.

A half hour later, Blaine pushed open large double doors to the auditorium. He was fifteen minutes early, so he had his pick of seats. His eyes were drawn to an Asian girl sitting in the middle of the second row. The back of her head tugged at something familiar in Blaine’s memory. Maybe he had a class with her before? Anyway, she was sitting in one of the best seats in the house, front and center but not the first row.

Blaine slid in between the seats until he was standing right next to her. “Hi, is this seat taken?”

The girl looked up at him, surprised. “No?” she said, watching as he sat down. “Hey,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “I remember you. Blaine, right?”

Blaine smiled and held out his hand. “Blaine Anderson. And you’re… Chang?” he asked, wincing slightly. “Sorry, I’m usually good with names.”

The girl grinned. “Tina Cohen-Chang,” she said as she shook his hand smartly. “So, Blaine, what brings you here?”

“Matherson,” Blaine sighed. “Who else?”

Tina nodded eagerly. “He’s supposed to be brilliant. I’m so glad that I got into this class!"

They continued to chat as people steadily started to file into the auditorium and took seats around them. By the time Mr. Matherson strode out to center stage, Blaine had learned that Tina was from San Francisco, was still with her high school sweetheart who was studying dance at Julliard, and taught disadvantaged kids to sing in a Brooklyn public school on the weekends.

It was just as Tina was describing one particularly eventful subway ride downtown that their professor announced his presence. An admiring hush fell over the idle chatter that was going on from the audience. 

Blaine listened with rapt attention as Matherson started to describe the course and what he expected of them as students. Ten minutes later, Blaine leaned over to whisper to Tina, “Wow, he’s really good.”

Tina made a noise of agreement, her hands tightening on her bag resting in her lap. 

“Now,” Matherson said, “Enough of my drivel. Because this is the first class, I decided not to frighten you all off just yet.” He smiled. “Today you will not be showing off your best impressions or act at all. Instead, I will give you your first assignment and you have today and tomorrow to prepare something for me.” Matherson paused and leaned on his cane. “Now, I have my TA here with me. He was a real protégé – no, don’t shake your head at me. I’m old, not blind,” he called into the wings. 

Blaine heard the answering laugh, high and eerily familiar. He craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the person hiding from view.

“He is an exemplary example of what you can get out of this class if you really put in the effort. He took the Stanislavski Acting technique to heart. Became his chosen character day after day in and out of class. Really gave it his all, if you know what I mean,” Matherson said, nodding firmly. “He’s already started his own Actors group here, they write and put on their own plays. Very impressive, now, Kurt, if you please-”  
And Blaine’s entire world collapsed as he saw his Kurt slip out from between the heavy red curtains and walk shyly to stand next to Matherson. Blaine listened, stunned, as Kurt introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Kurt Hummel, a junior and originally from Lima Ohio. I’m double majoring in French and musical theater…”

Blaine listened, his horror gnawing a pit in his stomach as Kurt continued to speak, voice both familiar and completely new without the foreign accent. 

Blaine’s vision swam and for a moment, he didn’t see a single thing in front of him. 

Nothing made any sense any more because everything Blaine knew about Kurt was… a big fat lie. Kurt had been lying to him, lying for the sake of a goddamn class.   
Blaine felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he couldn’t believe that Kurt could be so cruel. But then again, Blaine didn’t know the real Kurt at all. He never had, he realized with a sickening jolt. For all Blaine knew, Kurt could be a complete and total asshole. Hell, he probably was, based on what he had been doing to Blaine for the past month. Blaine flushed, the hot uncomfortable feeling of shame surging up his neck, making him squirm slightly in his seat. Kurt wasn’t French, he wasn’t a transfer student, maybe he wasn’t even gay. Everything Blaine felt, everything that Kurt represented was based on a lie. 

Blaine swallowed and felt the odd prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes. He blinked rapidly, willing the tears gathering not to fall. He would not cry. Not on the first day of class. Not here. Not in front of Kurt. He was stronger than that. He was. Only an hour, this class was only an hour. He could do this.

All he needed was courage.

Blaine swallowed again, and tried to calm his emotions. He mustn’t break down until he got back to his room. Then he could wail and scream all he wanted. Just ten minutes left.  
“Now, enough about me,” Kurt said. “Do you have any questions for me or Professor Matherson?”

Blaine listened with complete disinterest as several of his peers raised their hands.

Courage.

With two minutes to go, Blaine raised a shaking hand. He was nearly trembling from the hurt and disappointment.

Kurt smiled, looking around until he spotted the lone raised hand. Then, as quick as a bolt of lightening, his face fell, his eyes growing wide. “Blaine?” He spoke so quietly, Blaine had to read his name on Kurt’s lips.

Blaine cleared his throat before speaking. It felt like his heart was in his throat, and palms were trembling with nerves. He lowered his hand and looked Kurt straight in the eye as he asked, willing his voice to sound as detached as possible, “How did you perfect your accent?”

Kurt gaped for a moment; he stood there, blinking at Blaine. After a moment, he turned to Matherson, who shook his head, looking nonplussed.

“I, uh,” Kurt said, shifting slightly in his boots, “Am a French major, so I’ve been around the French language a lot. It was the only accent I felt comfortable using for an extended period of time.” He nodded.

“Thanks,” Blaine breathed, so quietly he was sure that Kurt couldn’t hear him at all. Kurt wasn’t even looking at him, anyway.

Blaine didn’t – couldn’t – process anything else that went on in that class. Matherson spoke a bit, and Kurt was mostly silent as he listened, his eyes pointedly avoiding Blaine’s gaze. Blaine figured it was probably lucky; he never wanted to see the pity he would surely find there. God, he had been such an idiot. He felt like inventing a time machine just to tell Blaine of last semester to never ever take that job at Common Grounds.

Blaine was one of the first out of the class when Matherson let them go. He knew he wasn’t done with Kurt, and if there was anything Blaine knew about him, it was that he was stubborn to a fault. Thus, he wasn’t all that surprised when Kurt strolled into Common Grounds the next morning, a determined glint to his eye.

From behind the cash register, Blaine sighed. “Hi, Kurt,” he said as he approached.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, his fingers twisting the strap of his bag.

“How are you?”

Kurt looked taken aback for a moment. “What? Um, I’m good?” he stumbled. “I’m good. But what I came here to say is that I’m sorry,” he said in a rush. “What I did wasn’t right, and I’m so, so sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine nodded. “I have a good ear because I’m a musician,” he told Kurt without looking up from the cash register. “So I can tell you your accent was flawless.”

“Blaine-” Kurt started, his voice sounding strained. 

“You’re a great actor, Kurt,” Blaine said as he looked up. “I hope you got an A.”

“No- I mean, I did,” Kurt fumbled. “Shit, Blaine, please-”

Blaine shook his head. “No, look, I get it, okay?” he said slowly as Kurt’s words died out, his eyes full of what Blaine assumed was pity. “You don’t have to keep coming back here,” Blaine continued, “and you don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad I could help with your class.” Blaine swallowed, struggling with saying what needed to be said. “If you keep coming to Common Grounds in the mornings, I’ll be sure to be in the back.” He sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I know we’re not friends, not really.”

“Look, Blaine, it’s not-”

“Because I really don’t know you at all,” Blaine finished over Kurt’s pleads. “So I don’t expect things to be the same between us. That’s okay, just give me some time, please?”  
Kurt nodded shakily. “Yeah, yeah I can do that,” he said quickly. “But, Blaine-”

“Faux Frenchie, did you not hear that he wanted some time?” Santana barked from over Blaine’s shoulder, and he had never been more thankful for her presence than at that moment. “He told you to get lost. Now scat before I go all Lima Heights Adjacent on your ass.”

Kurt’s eyes flashed. “Santana,” he said in a warning voice.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him with unabashed anger. “Leave, Hummel. You know I’m not above hitting a girl, and you are no exception,” she growled as she shoved the mocha in his face.

Kurt sighed in defeat and took the proffered coffee from the counter. “I’m just really sorry, Blaine,” he said quietly. 

Blaine sighed, watching as Santana sauntered off, her job done. “I know,” he muttered, turning back to Kurt. “But thanks for saying it.”

Kurt’s mouth twisted, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say something else, but then he spun on his heel and left.

Blaine waited until he saw Kurt round the corner before he totally fell apart.


	6. Chapter 6

“You aren’t looking so good, short stuff,” was Santana’s greeting to Blaine one morning when he slunk into Common Grounds, about three weeks after he had learned the truth about Kurt. 

“I’m fine, Santana,” Blaine said wearily as he walked past her to get his apron. “Lay off.”

“Snarky hobbit are we, now?” Santana made a face. “Gotta say, I liked it better when you blushed and stammered. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said shortly as he began taking the chairs down from the tables.

“Kurt still on your mind?” she asked quietly.

Blaine didn’t respond, instead he finished with the chairs and began to stack napkins.

“It’s okay if he is,” Santana called. “He still comes in, you know. He’s annoying as hell, asks about you and everything.”

Blaine sighed. “Why?” He slumped in his chair and blinked up at the ceiling. “Why does he have to come here?”

“Because he likes you, dumbass,” Santana stated calmly.

Blaine sat up in his chair and stared at her. “That’s not funny, Santana,” he said in a low voice.

“You bet your shapely ass it isn’t funny,” she said scornfully. “He ruins a perfectly good morning with his whining. But then again, I have to deal with your sorry ass anyway, so my morning’s already ruined.”

“Sorry.”

“No… you’re just sad,” Santana observed, eyeing him shrewdly. “And you’re allowed to be, but Mini Elvis, it’s getting old.” Before Blaine could respond, she hopped off the counter to stand right in front of him. “Now,” she said, staring him down, “Here’s what I want to know. Do you still like him?”

Blaine blinked. “Yes,” he said cautiously.

“Do you want to date him or get over him?” Santana demanded, hands on her hips. “Cause I gotta tell you, you’re harder to read than my old abuela’s Spanish bible and that burned every time I touched it.”

Blaine shoved his hands in his apron pockets. “I… don’t know,” he said eventually.

Santana grunted. “That’s no help.”

“What do you want from me?” Blaine groaned as he slumped back in his chair. “I think about him all the time. I miss him like crazy. But, do you know what the worst thing is? That I’m thinking about an imaginary person; that I’m missing someone who never even existed in the first place.” Blaine sighed and blinked up at her. “I’m been telling myself this for three weeks, but I still can’t get him out of my head.”

Santana’s eyes narrowed. “I think I have the perfect solution for you, Angsty Dwarf. A way for you to finally get over Kurt Hummel, fake exchange student.”

“Oh yeah?” Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically. “What’s that?”

“A blind date,” Santana said smugly. “No better way to get over an old flame than meet a new one with a smoking hot bod.”

“Um, thanks, but no thanks, Santana,” Blaine said as he got up to stand behind the cash register.

“What?” she asked. 

“I said no thanks,” he repeated carefully. “I don’t want to sleep with some random guy you met at a club last week.”

Santana made a face. “Like I’d do that do you, Blainey. No, I’m talking about a kid I knew in high school. We were in glee club together. I think you’ll like him.” She pulled out her phone, and Blaine stared at her in horror.

“No – Santana, please don’t–”

“Too late!” she crowed, triumphant as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. “You’ll meet him at Serin tonight at seven, it’s a French place in the village. Very quaint and shit.”

“Santana,” Blaine sighed. “Don’t do this.”

“You need to get out there,” she told him, actually wagging a finger at him as she flipped her hair behind her. “Give him a chance, I think he’ll surprise you.” She snorted. “Fuck, I’m good.” She sauntered into the backroom, leaving Blaine silently gaping after her.

Blaine managed to put the approaching date out of his mind for the rest of the day, and it was only when Santana texted him the address of the restaurant around five o’clock that he remembered. He briefly considered not going, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up whoever was waiting on him. With a sigh, he read Santana’s vague text message that his date would be holding a rose and got ready. He managed to catch the train downtown without too much difficulty. Blaine hesitated outside the restaurant as he gave the place a once over. It was indeed very quaint, the overhead lights were not too bright and each table seemed to be lit up by candlelight. The walls were a warm red with white wood accents placed artfully about. 

Blaine squared his shoulders and marched inside, prepared for the worst.

He nearly tripped over his own feet as he caught sight of Kurt Hummel seated at the nearest tablet to his right, nervously playing with his silverware. To Blaine’s horror, he noticed that Kurt was seated across an empty setting with a single red-tipped yellow rose.

“Blaine,” he breathed as soon as he caught sight of Blaine gawking in the doorway. “You came,” he gaped, dumbfounded.

Blaine blinked, and it took a moment for him to determine that yes, this was real, and yes, Kurt Hummel had just asked him a question. “I – yeah, I did,” he said, sounding like he didn’t quite believe it himself. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m… your date?” Kurt replied, his eyes narrowing. He sighed, slumping in his seat. “Santana didn’t tell you you’d be meeting me, I take it,” he muttered.

Blaine shook his head. “She just said old high school friend from glee club.”

“Well, if friends are the people who use your night time skin cream during foreplay, then yes, we are friends,” Kurt said dryly. 

“I didn’t know,” Blaine said quietly.

“I would hope not,” Kurt joked with a small, strained smile. “But you never can tell with Santana.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Blaine cut in quietly.

Kurt swallowed, and his eyes dimmed. “I know that. It’s… okay, Blaine,” he said after a moment. “I just thought that you’d finally agreed to see me, but I guess I was wrong. This is just a misunderstanding.” He sighed. “You don’t have to stay, if you’re worried about that. I don’t mi- well, I mind a lot, but I don’t want to guilt you into anything.” He chuckled. “I know how you can get, after all. A little guilt trip can go a long way with Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine thought long and hard. On one hand, he really wasn’t prepared for meeting the real Kurt Hummel, on the other hand, Kurt was just sitting there looking so… lost. It tugged at Blaine’s heartstrings and just made him want to wrap Kurt up in a warm hug and never let go. Blaine squared his shoulders. This was for closure. He needed closure. He could do this.

“I don’t know you at all,” Blaine told him frankly as he took a seat.

Kurt looked appropriately taken aback and chastised. “I guess that’s mostly true,” he said slowly. “What do you want to know?” he asked, smiling hesitantly, but Blaine could tell it was more than a little forced. 

“From the beginning?” he prompted.

Kurt sighed. “It’s similar to Santana’s, actually. I grew up in Lima, Ohio. I’ve been out since I was fifteen. Um, Rachel and I had planned to move to New York ever since we met sophomore year glee club.” Kurt shrugged. “Santana came to New York halfway through our freshman year and somehow wound up in the coffee business.” He licked his lips. “I’m not certain how that happened, but I really don’t want to know.”

Blaine frowned. “Why didn’t Santana tell me any of this? She must’ve known who you were from the start if you went to high school together.”

Kurt flushed. “That’s my fault, actually,” he muttered, staring down at his plate. “I told her not to tell you.”

“Why?” Blaine demanded.

Kurt hesitated, and Blaine let out a shaky laugh before saying, “The class. Matherson’s class,” he clarified. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” His fingers found the napkin in his lap and began twisting it in endless spirals.

“It wasn’t because of the class,” Kurt said quietly, the unassuming and deferential tone making Blaine look up at him. “I asked Santana not to tell you because I wanted to tell you myself.” He shrugged. 

“Well, that didn’t go so well,” Blaine said frankly.

Kurt nodded, chuckling to himself. “I meant to, you know?” he said, a sad smile curving his lips. “When we were watching Mulan together. But then you fell asleep, and I didn’t want   
to wake you. Then the moment was lost, and next I knew it, I was back in Ohio, yelling at Santana and Brittney to get out of my bathroom.”

Blaine peered at Kurt, his eyes taking in the downcast eyes and crossed arms. “Why didn’t you tell me, Kurt?” he asked gently.

Kurt froze. “I never found the right time,” he said cautiously.

“You could have corrected me any time during that first week when we just saw each other in Common Grounds,” Blaine pointed out.

Kurt swallowed and carefully avoided Blaine’s gaze. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid that you wouldn’t look twice at me if I told you the truth,” he said in a rush, blushing furiously. “I’m just some kid from a tiny town in Ohio with a dream that gets a little to much to handle sometimes, to be honest. So yeah, I pretended to be somebody I’m not because I thought, how else would the cute barista who has the patience and balls to deal with Santana on a regular basis notice me?” Kurt’s face was flaming red by now, and his   
fingers twitched nervously over the utensils next to his plate. “Stupid, I know,” he sighed.

Blaine was silent for a moment as he absorbed Kurt’s words. “That’s not… stupid,” he said after a moment.

Kurt grimaced and shook his head.

“Well, it was stupid,” Blaine amended. “But that’s just because you made up this fabulous persona who was so painfully out of my league that I could only dream of asking you out. But the real you?” He raised his eyebrows and gestured to the Kurt sitting in front of him. “I would have asked out this Kurt Hummel within a minute, probably with some wildly over the top serenade in the most public place possible.” He smiled.

Startled, Kurt’s eyes shot up from his plate. “Really?” Then a moment later, his expression fell once more. “That’s okay. I won’t hold you to any of that. I know I missed my chance with you.”

Blaine studied Kurt closely, noticing how his blue eyes wouldn’t meet his own and how he defensively had his arms crossed over his chest. “I won’t say that,” Blaine said slowly after a beat.

“But I lied to you, for weeks,” Kurt argued weakly as he looked up.

“Yeah, you did,” Blaine said frankly, making Kurt cringe in his seat. “And that wasn’t the right thing to do, but I really want to get to know you, Kurt, the real you.” Blaine swallowed.   
“Would… would you let me?”

Kurt smiled, and it was like a huge weight was lifted from Blaine’s chest. “I would be honored,” he said solemnly.

Blaine grinned, and his eyes took on a wicked glint that immediately set Kurt on edge. “So,” he began, “I have one question left for you, Kurt Hummel.”

“Oh yeah? What would that be?” Kurt asked hesitantly.

Blaine bit his lip before asking, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”

Kurt gaped, and then began to laugh. “Oh my god, how long have you been waiting to say that?” he demanded, leaning over the table.

Blaine shrugged, smirking. “Would you believe it just came to me right now?”

“No.”

“Since that first day in Common Grounds.”


End file.
